


In darkness

by Nightlark100



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22959172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightlark100/pseuds/Nightlark100
Summary: The sheets were a mess. A dark shadow had fallen across his beautiful doll's face, a fear that lingered behind her eyes. He let his hand run across her hair and down her cheek, leaving crimson smears behind.
Relationships: Faustus Blackwood/Sabrina Spellman, The Dark Lord | Satan/Sabrina Spellman
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52





	In darkness

The girl lay on the bed, her hair splayed out like cobwebs around her head. A large bruise marred her porcelain skin and dried blood was splattered across her temple. The candlelight sent shadows dancing across the canvas of her body, her clothing stripped away save for her underwear. Red and black lace. Leather straps bound her arms and legs to the bed, perhaps overly cautious as she wasn’t in a fit condition to run. Still, he knew from experience that it was best not to underestimate the girl, no matter how vulnerable she appeared to be.

Watching her, he drummed his fingers against his thigh, eyes drinking in her lithe frame. Perhaps he had gone too far. But now it was really too late to do anything about it. Even if he had been inclined to change the situation he found himself in, he couldn’t bring himself to stop looking at her.

It wasn’t the first time. Not even the first time he had seen her in such a vulnerable state. But it was different this time. This time, she was his. She was so close, barely a foot between the bed and his chair. He half leaned forward, reaching out to touch but stopped himself. Patience. He had time, he intended to make the most of it.

Instead, he allowed his hand to move over her leg, hovering just an inch from her skin. He could feel the warmth radiating from her and a small smile played across his lips. She reminded him of a painting he had seen long ago, of the goddess Selene. The artist had painted her as the embodiment of celestial light, moonshine brought to flesh. The girl reminded him of her in that, he almost expected her skin to be cold but it was warm like sunlight. Perhaps it was the mortal in her.

Rising slowly, he crossed to the far side of the room. Far from the luxuries he was accustomed to, he had placed a cracked mirror beside a cloth, a bowl and a jug of water. Meditatively he poured the water into the bowl and began to wash his hands, taking his time. The blood had coated his fingers so thoroughly that from a distance it almost seemed as though he was wearing gloves.

Wash it all away.

His eyes flitted around the squalid surroundings and his expression darkened. What had he been brought to? It sickened him to see how far he had fallen.

Well, that would change soon. She would help him return to his full glory. He lifted his hands from the bowl, rivulets of tainted water running along his fingers before falling, seemingly in slow motion. He brought up his hand and examined the lingering traces of blood. In the light it looked almost black.

Slowly, he stalked back to his seat and took his place before the girl. A chill breeze stirred her hair and caressed her, drawing goosebumps along her arms. His smile returned and he lazily brought his hand to his mouth, languidly running his tongue over his fingers to remove the final sinful reminders of what had come to pass.

The girl groaned, shivering as the cold continued to claw at her. He considered covering her, but decided against it, far too entranced by her almost faelike form spread before him.

Somewhere a clock struck three. The witching hour, he thought. The time for the darkest of deeds.

Not yet…

That voice hissing in the back of his mind restrained him. He felt like a hungry animal, wanting nothing more than to seize on its prey. Patience. That was the key. Besides, it would taste all the sweeter for waiting.

He poured himself a glass of wine, setting on a lesser vice as he sat in the near silence of the room. Near silence. The noises from the next room which had been pointedly ignoring where beginning to grate on him. He wanted to enjoy his prize. To the victor went the spoils and all that. But the persistent whimpering, muffled by the door and the wad of cloth he’d stuck into that flapping mouth that refused to just shut up. He looked out the window. The moon was a sliver, nearly gone. If he were to rid himself of the nuisance he would need to find a replacement by the new moon. An achievable goal but an unnecessary burden when he had other ways he would much rather spend his time.

Decisions, decisions…

He downed the contents of his glass and went over to the door, ensuring it was firmly shut. He made a note to sigil it for the next time, since mundane methods appeared to have had no effect.

Silently, he returned to the bed. He wore trousers and an unbuttoned shirt and he kept his clothing on as he took a spot beside the unconscious girl. The bed was narrow and his body curled around her restrained form. The clothing was what separated them and he was grateful for it. Skin to skin with his stolen siren would have been too much. He would not have been able to keep the hunger at bay.

He allowed himself the luxury of entwining one finger in a strand of her hair. It was like gossamer against the pad of his finger. The man’s eyes closed and he breathed deeply, peace settling over him.

They lay together, the girl and the man, entwined in the fading candlelight.


End file.
